


President Explosion, and other madness

by zsomeone



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Crack, Gender or Sex Swap, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-07
Updated: 2009-11-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 17:24:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3496616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zsomeone/pseuds/zsomeone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: "Please write me something where Nathan becomes president, but through a freak accident loses his memory and thinks he's Skwisgaar's older brother. And he and Skwisgaar fall in love, so he passes a law saying siblings can get married. Then Seth tries to force Pickles to marry him by kidnapping Toki... but it turns out Toki is pregnant with Ofdensen's lovechild, because he's secretly a female bodybuilder with a fake mustache.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	President Explosion, and other madness

Due to Dethklok’s ridiculous level of popularity and fame, it wasn’t a huge surprise when they were nominated for the presidency of the USA. Yes, _they_ , as in the whole band. It was quickly and precisely pointed out by assorted opposing important people that the president couldn’t be five seperate people, two of which were most definitely not even US citizens.  
Still, the public was rather adamant. They wanted Dethklok, or at least a member of Dethklok, and they had apparently forgotten how to take ‘no’ for an answer. (That was probably due to contaminants in the water supply, or something similar.) Skwisgaar and Toki couldn’t reasonably be considered of course, being foreign and all that, so the cluelessly demanding public turned to the other three.

Pickles simply but repeatedly refused to provide them with any name but “Pickles the Drummer”, making it impossible to find his birth certificate for the usual and much publicized verification purposes. Simply asking his parents for it was out of the question, because the entire world suddenly suffered severe selective amnesia and didn’t remember that he ever had any. Even his very own parents didn’t remember, which was actually pretty alright with him.  
So, no to Pickles, he couldn’t be considered a reasonable option, or oftentimes even reasonable. There would be no President the Drummer.   
Which was kind of just as well, because that sounded really weird.

Murderface had somehow managed to mysteriously and thoroughly erase himself from every possible public record, leaving a mysterious blank where his entire past was once presumed to exist. It’s quite possible, even probable, that he did it completely by accident. Perhaps even while attempting to somehow slyly trademark Planet Piss, a technological fail of epic proportions. Unable to verify that he even actually existed, much less might possibly be eligible, the sad potential voters were forced to move on in their considerations.  
Murderface holding press conferences in an attempt to prove his very existence were met with extreme apathy, most considered him to be a hologram or possibly even a robot. Not that they cared.

Nathan was their last hope, unless they wanted to elect the manager. And they did not, even though if asked, everyone was forced to admit that he was by far the best choice. However, the world’s most brutal CEO was still merely just that, and it was Dethklok that they wanted.  
Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you should care to look at it) Nathan could be verified and authenticated in every way they cared to verify or authenticate him. He was immediately named the new and very metal President Explosion.  
No, they didn’t bother to hold an election, they just appointed him. BECAUSE THEY CAN.

And so this is how Dethklok moved into the White House, which was small and very unmetal. But some old and rather pointless fucked up law said something about the President had to live there, or something similar to that... they didn’t really look into it. Too much reading involved.  
Air Force One was totally lame compared to the Dethcopter, so they had no intention of ever actually using it.   
There were however, a large supply of antiques and significant items of American history to desecrate or destroy, so that was entertaining.  
And they got to make the Secret Service wear hoods. Because security without hoods was lame. They’d ordered another few million made for the assorted armed forces, just because they could.  
As long as Nathan gave the orders.

Unfortunately, he was only a week into his term when Nathan literally suffered a freak accident: he somehow got randomly hit by a circus bus. The particular one that just happened to contain all the sideshow freaks. He was physically fine, merely knocked out for 2.5 seconds, hardly enough for anyone to really even notice. Unfortunately, he couldn’t remember a thing about much of anything at all. One tabloid theory was that waking up surrounded by the assortment of freaks had somehow for some reason shut down his brain. Or maybe it was just all the years of heavy drinking, but that just didn’t sound nearly as cool.  
But since nobody really cared if the President was forgetful, or even if he couldn’t remember that he was the President until repeatedly reminded, his new job was in no jeopardy. 

As a joke, Skwisgaar started calling Nathan “bigs brother”, he’d never had a brother and this was the perfect and perhaps only opportunity unless he wanted to sell his mom to a breeding farm. Although she’d probably enjoy that... well that was the main reason he didn’t want to. That, and a baby brother wouldn’t be much fun to pal around with, like Nathan just so happened to be. Even if he didn’t remember anything.  
Nathan did indeed really and truly remember nothing and wanted to reconnect with his family. So it wasn’t surprising that he started spending all his time with Skwisgaar, who was all for the special treatment. That went... strangely.

***

A week or so later, Nathan and Skwisgaar were sitting sort of contentedly in the official White House hot tub together. Skwisgaar was loving all the attention he had been getting lately. He knew that Nathan wasn’t really his brother, so he had no problem with trying to seduce his singer using lines from a handy book he’d found in the library. He only hoped he could remember enough of the gripping dialog to get the job done.  
“Nathans, what bigs eyes you has.”  
“Uh, thanks? I think they’re like, kinda average?”  
“Nathans, what bigs nose you has.”  
Nathan looked at him in confusion, was that an insult? It was clear that if he’d ever read that book, he didn’t remember it.  
“Nathans, what bigs cock you has. You should probablies be fuckings me wit it.”

What a wonderful suggestion, so Nathan proceeded to just that, in his rather endearingly confused way. They had been spending all their time together, so it seemed the logically the next step. Even if it was technically (but not really, he’s just confused) incest. And it was good.  
Afterwards, he tried to explain how he felt. “I love you because you’re my little brother, but I like, love you as more than that too. I wanna marry you. You can be um, the first lady or something?”  
Despite having just been called a lady, Skwisgaar was overjoyed. No one had ever proposed to him before. “Oh ja Nathans, I will marries you!”  
Pickles, who had been so far sitting silently in a nearby chair, channel surfing and watching this whole thing, pointed out one little potential problem. “But yer _brathers_ , ya can’t git married.” (He of course knew better, but found the whole situation really amusing.)  
Nathan stood up. “I’m pretty sure that I’m like, the President. That’s what people keep telling me anyway. So uh, I can change that. Yeah. Skwisgaar, go buy a fucking dress, we’re getting married.”

There was an official presidential address that night, a potentially less horribly boring that the usual shit in the past, so people actually tuned in to watch. Nathan stood behind the official presidential podium thingy, glaring at the audience. “I made a new fucking law. You can like, marry your brother or your sister now. You know, if you want to. Um, that’s all?”  
Stalking swiftly to the edge of the stage, he yanked a very surprised yet completely cooperative Skwisgaar into his arms, bending him backward and giving him a big and rather sloppy kiss. Straightening back up, he turned back to face the audience. “We’re like, getting married. Now go die.”  
Some percentage of the audience (and also some viewers at home!) did just that.

Nathan and Skwisgaar started trying to plan their weird and wonderful wedding, but that quickly went badly since they’d never actually planned anything in their lives. So, doing what they always did when baffled by life in general, they passed all the responsibility off to Charles, instructing him to just tell them when and where to show up.  
Charles hung up the phone and went to join Toki on the couch. Maybe he could plan a double wedding? So far Toki had turned him down, but if Nathan and Skwisgaar were getting married, maybe they could discuss it once again. “Hey Baby, Nathan and Skwisgaar are getting married.”  
“Goods for them.” Toki raised an eyebrow, daring him to say it.  
Apparently today just wasn’t his day either. Perhaps a little foot massage would help? Anything to keep his Toki happy.

Nathan’s newly passed ‘Put Your Brother to the Test’ law just so happened to have one very bad side effect. Well, if you cared to consider a potentially very inbred future it had a lot of bad side effects, but only one they actually cared about.   
Seth called, wanting to talk to Pickles. “Bro, we’re gettin’ married. You can’t tell me no, ‘cause I’ve already gat it all planned out.”  
If Pickles wasn’t allowed to say no... but he refused to say yes. He remained silent.  
Seth wasn’t deterred. “Marry me Bro, or I’ll take what ya hold most dear, I’ll make ya sahrry.”  
He hung up, and Pickles hurried to lock up his alcohol collection. If Seth touched even _one_ bottle...

Unfortunately, it hadn’t been the alcohol that the rather misinformed Seth had been referring to. When he called again and claimed to have a hostage, Pickles saw no choice but to go and talk to him. Walking in, he was surprised to see Toki sitting on the couch. “Seth, ya douchebag, what tha hell are ya doin’ with Charlie’s girlfriend? He’s gonna kick yer ass fer this.”  
Seth had unfortunately just took a big drink, which he now spewed clear across the room. Crap, he was going to have to clean that up later. He looked back and forth between Toki and Pickles in a state of extreme confusion. “But... but... thet’s a _dude_! Thet yer in love with!”  
“Nope, yer wrong. Dunno where ya gat thet idea, but she’s naught mine.”

Toki scowled and jumped up, hands on her hips. “That’s just rudes, I don’ts like yous!”  
Seth was still trying. “Ya can’t be a chick, ya have a moustache! An’ ya don’t have tits!”  
Toki’s hands flew to her face. “Oh noes, these damn sticks-on eyebrows keep slippings down!” She peeled them off, sticking them back where they were supposed to be. “And I’s a bodybuilders, Mr. Nosy Rude Guy! That makes your tits shrinks! But they’s goings to grows back before the baby’s borns.”  
“Oh gawd... yer rally a _chick_?! An’ yer pregnant?!”  
Pickles grabbed his arm. “Excuse us Toki, we gatta tawlk. Why don’t ya call Charlie? He’s prab’ly worried ‘bout ya.”

Pickles led Seth to the other room. “Look, I know ya jest wanna marry me so ya can divorce me an’ git half of everythin’ I own. I’m naught gonna do it.”  
“No Pickles, it’s naught like thet! I love ya, Bro! I wanna marry ya!”  
Pickles rolled his eyes. “Bullshit. Besides, yer already married.”  
“I’ll divorce her for ya!”  
“Even if I believed ya, yer naught gonna be in any shape ta marry anybody when Charlie gets through with ya. I kinda wasn’t ‘posed ta tell anyone thet they’re havin’ a baby, oops, sucks ta be you now. But the good news is, I’m sahrry.” He reconsidered. “Well, naught rally. Yer a douchbag an’ ya deserve ta git yer ass beat.”

Charles received an angry call from Toki, he’d been wondering where she’d disappeared to. “Pickles’s dildos brother kidnaps me, why hasn’t you come to rescues me yets?!”  
“Toki, it’s just Seth. You can break him in half.” He was busy, and really wasn’t needed in this situation.  
“It’s not about thats! You’s supposed to come and defends my honor!”  
Damn, this pregnancy was making her really irrational. “Fine. Give me a little bit, I’ll come defend your honor, if I must.”  
“You _must_ if you ever wants to gets laid again!” Toki hung up on him.

After finishing the most critical of his current paperwork, Charles drove over to Seth’s house.  
Pickles greeted him sheepishly. “I kinda slipped up and told ‘em ‘bout tha baby, sahrry.”  
“Pickles, how do you even know about that? We haven’t told anyone.”  
Toki came to his side. “Don’ts be mads, I tells him. But then he tells THAT GUY!” She pointed to Seth, who was looking very nervous now.  
“Toki, calm down? Did he hurt you? Did he even touch you?”  
With an evil little smile, Toki nodded.  
Turning to Seth, Charles slowly and deliberately loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves. “That’s my milk and cookies you’re fucking with.”


End file.
